


Skyline Suicides

by Popples123



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Aromantic, Heartbreak, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Long-Distance Friendship, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Sad, This Is Me Venting Through Fanfic Again, commitment issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 15:31:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11535111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Popples123/pseuds/Popples123
Summary: "On the night of the breakup I remember wanting more than anything for the skyline to be blue..."





	Skyline Suicides

**Author's Note:**

> The unfortunate sequel to Label-less that never should have happened.

_For Mikeyway,_

On the night of the breakup I remember wanting more than anything for the skyline to be blue. And the skyline was not blue, it was every color but. Neon yellow and suicide red mixed in with a blinding green and lights the color of sunsets. Every bedroom window played the role of an artificial beach with the skyline as the ocean and the moon as the sun because if humans can fake who they are then why can't She? A jet black sky void of stars due to light pollution, or perhaps due to the clouds wanting to protect them from witnessing all of the colorful cities in the  _world/people_  grow duller with every heartache, and drink until the ninth shot of vodka and a throat wrecked from screaming brings a tidal wave that causes the city to fall apart, until there is no light or sky or skyline, just an empty heart and a broken mind with the word 'suicide' scrawled onto hospital documents that symbolizes the end of one of seven billion worlds.

What made you give up on me?

Was it when loving morning texts died alongside our efforts to maintain something that was over before it started. Was it the tears I shed with every kiss, repeating over and over that kissing felt wrong touching felt wrong  _you_  felt wrong, and you kissing me breathless anyways and both of us pretending my lack of oxygen was caused by passion and amazement rather than the fifteen minute long panic attack I was falling into. Or was it simply because after our first night together it occurred to you finally that my fear of commitment was not an excuse, that the word 'aromantic' was the only label I felt comfortable putting on myself when I am so against all labels, and that I was not to be 'fixed' in some sort of romantic poetic way because "you can't fix something that was never broken to begin with," as my friends say... or, as I prefer to say - "you can't fix something that will  _always_  be broken".

What was it that made you give up on me?

The sadness comes in waves and when it's gone I wonder if it was even my sadness to begin with. Dictated by the world. Dictated by  _you_. Do I regret us or the ending of us?

I am scared of four things. Bugs, my best friends dying, commitment, and you reading this letter. Isn't it rather strange, how I am repeatedly addressing you in most sentences I write and yet you are the only person who I do  _not_  want to read this? Or how Label-less was a love letter that seemed like a suicide note. How this seems like a love letter but may one day turn into something else...

I promised most people who care that I am over you. But pinkie promises are the only ones that matter and I am yet to seal my statement with one, because I am still thinking about you in all the ways I should not be thinking about you. If I ended the friendship/relationship permanently then that should mean I am over you. So why is it every time the Earth's sky turns dark, you are the only thing on my mind? Perhaps it is a synonym for how my own sky went completely black the night we called it quits. Oh God, I am so sick of being hopelessly drawn back to you when the sun goes down and the moon moves waves.

After writing that paragraph I turned my little bedside lamp off and stared into nothingness for twenty-five minutes. Maybe longer. I don't know. But my heart is just as heavy as what it was beforehand. Normally, getting my thoughts down on paper brings a temporary blanket of peace that I can wrap myself in until next time, but tonight it doesn't seem to be working. And I don't want to acknowledge this but the truth is you were the only person who could ever calm me down when I got this bad. And I hate myself for it, but despite the countless friends I have who I know would be there for me to comfort me at the drop of a hat if I reached out to them, you are still the only human being on the face of the Earth that I crave comfort from. Because everyone else has their own issues and their own sadness and I have it better than all of them and therefore I should be the therapist, not the client, but my heart aches so so much and all I can think about right now is that one night when I wanted to die more than I ever had, and the second I messaged you, you were there to make me feel better although I hadn't had a proper conversation with you for days. Why did I let that go? Why did I let you go? 

You _are/were_ the only person I didn't feel guilty for being sad around. Almost everyone in my life doesn't want a life but you were always positive in the worst of situations and I could hurt without worrying about hurting you with my angst, or you hurting me with your angst. I need you to call me baby and promise me I'll be okay and mean it. It's been months since that's happened. The words sound fake coming from anyone else. I used to hate you for calling me baby towards the end of our relationship. Now I crave that word travelling past your lips the way I crave vodka travelling down my throat.

I do not know who I am anymore.

Most of all I'm just scared of the fact that nobody can make me feel the happy-calm way I felt when I as with you. It is not their fault that I am incapable of feeling the same way with them, and you were still toxic for me, but there was something about you that could relax me immediately. Maybe that is love. How would I know...? 

This is what terrifies me. The fact that I will never feel that way again. Safety and three nights in a row without a panic attack are foreign to me now. I am shaking violently throughout the day. My mother cries herself to sleep over the fact that I am going to be put on medication , possibly for the rest of my life. I cry myself to sleep over the fact that I am going to be without you, possibly for the rest of my life.

Timezones do work in my favour, I have finally found out. I can sleep when you are awake, and when I am awake I can pretend that you are not talking to me because you are asleep and not because we hate each other almost as intensely as we loved each other.

How can I be miserable when I dismantled us with my own two hands? I am not allowed to be sad. So why am I still smashing up mirrors because of you?  

I'm starting to zone out again. It hurts to the point of tears, but I can barely bring myself to speak let alone sob. I need comfort. But I do not want to talk to anyone if they are not you.

The last time I did this I had no idea if you were alive or not and the whole objective was to ensure you that you were loved, and I stopped writing the second I was informed that you were awake after overdosing. But now all this seems to be is me whining about my own mistakes, perhaps even a cry for help, and there is no point to this other than the fact that heartbreak fucking  _hurts_ , even when you are the heartbreaker, and it makes you feel so, so alone. And if this was what a toxic relationship is like, it was heaven compared to what I feel now. I am only getting worse and I'm sick of forcing a smile and faking my happiness for the sake of everyone else. I want to stand on a roof with a megaphone, screaming to skylines that I'm not okay, I'm a fucking mess and I'm tired of helping people when I can't help myself. How can I get better when everywhere I look I see misery. In the mirror, the eyes of friends, the words of family... what use am I if I cannot take people's problems away? What use am I to anyone?

Everything hurts and I'm done trying to sound poetic and paint this in a somewhat tragically beautiful light because the reality is I lay in bed all day today, motionless and too drained to cry, staring at the ceiling for sixteen hours straight and ignoring the Earth because what use is that world when I have lost my world. I haven't laughed properly for days and every fucking smile is fake fake fake because I can't burden people with my issues when they are already a tear drop away from ending it and I am a tear drop away from going home. But how can I talk them out of  _it_  when a tear of my own just fell onto the mattress I appear to spend most of my days curled up on, simply rotting like monsters should. Heartbreak shouldn't hurt like this when you are the heartbreaker and I don't know what to do. I just need you, Mikey. I need you I need you I need you.

Can I disappear? I want to stop. I want to stop everything. I want to pull a Lestat de Lioncourt and bury myself under the earth for however long and just lie there and listen to the world operating above me as I sleep and starve and learn to make solitude therapeutic. And once (if) I find myself willing to be a part of the world again, I can burrow out of the soil and continue living as normal. Can I do that? Please? Because I don't want to die (I think, anyways. I am simply too scared to go all the way), I just want to pause and lie down and scream my voice raw and then stay there in complete silence until I feel okay again. This all seems so wonderful. I want to disappear for a while.

I wonder if I would still be in your life had I not been convinced I was better off otherwise. Would I still be talking to you if Joe didn't tell me you were toxic, if Patrick had never said I seemed happier on my own, had my mother not spent weeks making me believe in an almost religious manner that I was manipulated by you into thinking I was broken for not being able to commit? Am I not speaking to you by choice or am I not speaking to you because I have been told not to and I am scared to disappoint the few people who still for some reason care about me? I am very easily influenced. I am very easily codependent. And it has gotten worse since your absence, to the point where my happiness depends on the world around me. And if it weren't for everyone advising me to steer clear of the road that leads down to your life, perhaps I would be crying to you instead of crying to the ceiling in the hopes that a higher power will be listening to me and will help fix the mess I have made. 

I haven't written anything this miserable for almost a year. Was it you that hurt me, or is it the isolation from you...

Why does love do this to people. What is love. The only thing that hurts me as badly as this is the fact that there might be other people out there feeling the same way. I am overly empathetic and it is ruining me. I hope these people hold on. I will hold on if they hold on. I will get better if they get better. 

Reliant on the world.

I need someone to give me hope.

I'm sorry. I don't know who I am apologizing too. I'm sorry Joe for always being too loud and I'm sorry Andy for never being able to calm you down. I'm sorry Patrick for not being able to help you the way you help me.

Most of all I am sorry Mikey. For all the times I gave you the wrong idea, the times I made you cry, for being a driving force in your mental health declining, for breaking you and your trust and your mind and your heart. 

But I will not apologize for being broken. Because me not knowing where to draw the line between platonic love and romantic love does not mean there is no love. Because having a panic attack every time I kissed you did not mean I didn't want to kiss you - it simply meant that I craved your lips on mine so badly I was willing to break myself completely for those three seconds of calmness. Because the absence of a label in our relationship did not -  _should_  not - strip the meaning from the words I spoke to you. And the fact that I am aromantic does not take away the fact that I fucking care(d) about you. 

You always told me you understood. And then on the night it ended you suddenly did not understand. Am I really that complex? Am I so complex that you had to lie about comprehending the reasons behind my words and actions until a time came where you no longer cared about what impact your words would have on me? 

How do I trust now?

Purple-blue is the saddest color in the world and yet you made it the happiest. 

I don't know how to end this because you have been awake the whole time and it seems like I am the mess, not you. 

Zoning out again. I am so scared of my mind. Sleep will not come tonight. That I am sure of.

I wish that all of this could make sense. That everyone who is not you could make sense of this. Isn't it funny how I am more comfortable spilling some of my biggest secrets to complete strangers instead of crawling back to you. How I have friends who can make their most painful experiences sound beautiful because of the way they write it, and yet all I seem to do is scare people away.

I miss you Mikeyway. 

I just miss you.

And on the night of the breakup I remember wanting more than anything for the skyline to be blue. Because then I'd still feel connected to the rest of the world, because every light counts in Skyline. Vast cities constructed of bright lights in dark nights and one less person means one less light means a much darker night. 

And this here may mark the end of one of seven billion worlds.

If anyone takes anything from this love letter/suicide note/cry for attention/whatever the fuck you see it as, I want you take away three things.

One - I miss my boy with every fiber of my being to the point where it physically aches.

Two - purple-blue is the saddest color in the world and he made it the happiest.

Three - heartbreak is not and never will be tragically beautiful. Not for the victim or the heartbreaker. Fuck anything that makes it seem otherwise.

It hurts on both ends, and I now understand why people kill themselves over love.

I don't belong in his universe.

But he belongs in mine.

- _pw_.

**Author's Note:**

> This started off poetic and ended on a breakdown and strangely enough, I am happy with that fact.
> 
> Thank you if you read this the whole way through. That means a lot to me.
> 
> Comment feedback if you like, it would be greatly appreciated as always<3.


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